


dirty hands

by soullistrations



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood, F/F, I wrote this seven years ago, Purgatory Fic, it's probably not even canon-aware, so it's not canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 11:01:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27350092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soullistrations/pseuds/soullistrations
Summary: Purgatory's not kind to angels. But Anna's never been afraid of getting her hands dirty.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	dirty hands

Purgatory’s not kind to angels.

Well, Anna corrects as she swings her blade around to pin the attacking vampire to a tree, Purgatory’s not kind to anyone. Least of all angels that are hardly that anymore.

The vampire opens his mouth in a wide snarl, bringing his own weapon down in a powerful blow that Anna only barely dodges. She twists quickly into his personal space, and he grabs at her arm to stop her, but it comes too late. With a swipe, she slices into his neck, ignoring the way his sharpened nails tear at her jacket until after she’s managed to hack his head off.

Breathing hard, Anna pries the vampire’s still twitching fingers from her arm and climbs to her feet. If only she’d been able to retain her smiting powers when she died–-maybe then she wouldn’t be picking bits of fingernail from another set of angry red claw marks.

The sound of a twig snapping cuts through the stale air of Purgatory, and Anna whips around to meet her newest assailant. This new monster is small, but smiles with such surety that Anna raises her blade and widens her stance in wariness. There’s something familiar about her–-something in the power that radiates far beyond her figure-–and then Anna remembers.

“Eve.”

“You’re not one of my children.” Eve says.

“I’m a little too old,” Anna replies. Some days she doesn’t feel it, but she _is_ old. Old enough to remember Eve, stumbling into self-awareness, dragging her mate along with her. 

Eve’s eyes flick to Anna’s shoulders, and something in the air of the clearing shifts. “Of course. And what’s an angel doing in Purgatory?”

Anna’s blade twitches. “Surviving.” This answer clearly doesn’t satisfy Eve, because she takes a few steps forward, which forces Anna to step back. It’s eerie to be on the other side of this power imbalance, especially when Anna remembers now with such clarity what Eve was like as a human.

Adam was always so afraid–-he had right to be, after what happened to Lillith-–but Eve. She was always asking questions, always testing things. The other angels shook their heads in discomfort as Eve strayed further and further from the paradise their father had created. And when God stirred from his grief long enough to lock Adam and Eve and the other humans out of Eden for disobedience, the others murmured their approval. Too many questions, too much independence. _Maybe now_ , some whispered to each other, _perhaps the humans would die, and Father would forget this pipe dream._

But Anna followed them ( _watch your charges_ , their Father had told them, so if Anna followed a little too closely, no one thought twice). And Anna saw the way Eve looked at the others. And Anna heard the things she whispered in the night, long after the other humans’ prayers for mercy had subsided.

“I watched you in the wilderness,” Anna says. This makes Eve laugh, and she strides closer, until she’s only a few feet away. Anna stiffens, but stands her ground.

“You angels, always watching.” Eve says. “Afraid to get your hands dirty?" Her brow furrows for a moment as she considers Anna. The angel tightens her grip on her blade, but Eve only smiles. "Oh, but you weren’t.”

The air shifts again, thick now, not with the threat of violence, but with curiosity. Emboldened, Anna replies, “Neither were you.”

Eve nods, her eyes scraping up and down Anna’s form. “My children are hungry,” she says calmly. “I could let them eat you.”

“You could try.”

Eve takes another step, and now she is well and truly within Anna’s personal space. Anna briefly considers taking a swing with her blade, but after a moment, decides that it probably wouldn’t work anyway. Especially since Eve has now wrapped her hand around Anna’s fingers on the blade.

Anna eyebrows furrow in confusion as Eve guides her hand up until the blade is between them. Then, Eve draws her own hand slowly up the blade, letting her fingers drag across the back of Anna’s hand. A shiver traces all the way up her arm at the contact, and she watches with held breath as Eve presses her hand into the blade, causing rivulets of blood to streak down its length.

Eve smiles in satisfaction before wiping the fingers of her other hand across her bloody palm. When she reaches these fingers toward Anna’s face, she has the distant thought that she should flinch, move away, do something other than stand in transfixed silence. But then she feels the warm wet contact of blood on skin, and all thought leaves her mind in a flash of red and white.

After a moment, Eve pulls her hand away, sucking the blood thoughtfully off a finger as she considers her handiwork. Finally, she smiles once more.

  
“I think I’ll let you live a little longer.”

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said, I wrote this seven years ago, and I haven't watched the show since season 9 so I have NO IDEA what's going on with the current lore. But, regardless, I like this little piece of Purgatory so I thought I'd share.


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